


Raking the Ashes

by greerwatson



Series: ITOWverse:  Autumn Holidays 2010 [12]
Category: RENAULT Mary - Works
Genre: Gen, Guy Fawkes Night, ITOWverse, Metafiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-16
Updated: 2010-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6289573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerwatson/pseuds/greerwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Afterwards, the Secretary and the Interviewer share their impressions of Guy Fawkes Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raking the Ashes

It was very late.  The Secretary went back in the clubhouse, hoping that there was a chance for a moment’s peace to calm down before she headed for bed.  It had been a lively evening; and she was both tired and wrought up.  Nor did the party seem likely to end yet.

She dropped off her empty mug in the kitchen, and saw the mess.  Mercifully, most of the housekeepers had washed up as they went.  Still, there were a remarkable lot of mugs and plates.  She decided—as she had at other festivities—to leave it for others to deal with.  Of course, she always did her own dishes (or at least left them in the dishwasher); but she drew the line at washing up after the multitude, especially when the party was as much of a surprise to her as this one had been.  It was not, after all, as though _she_ had invited everyone to come for a bonfire and fireworks.

The Secretary went out to the hall.  Noises from the library suggested that there was a party going on in there—an extension, no doubt, of the one continuing outside.  She turned for the stair, therefore, knowing that there would at least be relative quiet in her own rooms.  Then she stopped.  Coming in the door, looking both elevated and bemused, was the Interviewer.

“I didn’t realize you’d come,” she said to the other woman.  “Are you writing up the bonfire for your magazine?”

“Oh, no,” said the Interviewer.  “It’s not really the sort of thing that interests my Editor.  No, I just came on my own account.”  She paused.  “I know I visit the worlds of many authors, if only in the way of work, but I’ve come to have a bit of a soft spot for you Mary Renault people.”  She sounded almost apologetic.

“We _have_ got quite a varied group of characters,” said the Secretary, with a smile.  “I don’t see how anyone could ever get bored around here.”

“Oh, no,” the Interviewer agreed.  “And I’ve got to say, this Guy Fawkes Day was quite fascinating in its own way.  I’d read about the holiday, of course; but I’d always sort of put it down as a cross between the Fourth of July and Halloween—what with the fireworks and the candy and the time of year.”

“It has its own charm,” said the Secretary, prudently.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it,” said the Interviewer, with a wry smile.  “Now, the fireworks, of course—that’s one thing.  The fireworks were … well, _fireworks_ , if you get my drift.  Actually, a pretty nice show, for something put on by a group of ordinary citizens.  But it’s not as though I never saw fireworks before!”  They both laughed; but the Secretary knew what the other woman meant.  “The bonfire was a bit … different,” the Interviewer went on—and that note of caution was in her voice, too.

“Yes,” said the Secretary.  “It was.”

“Of course, the fire itself,” the Interviewer went on, “well, that was exciting.  And great to look at—well, as long as nothing catches fire around; but I guess they put it in a safe place.  The story behind it all, though.”  She hesitated.  “Is it really that Guy Fawkes fellow himself they’re supposed to be burning?”  She sounded incredulous.

“I don’t know,” said the Secretary.  “To be honest, I’ve a feeling even _they_ don’t really _think_ about it.”

They shook their heads together.  Eschewing the library, and whatever company was in there, they went back in the kitchen to natter comfortably with fresh mugs of coffee, two foreigners together.


End file.
